The new opportunity
by ElementaryFan
Summary: Joan is heading home from precinct but a car bumps her to a pavement. Joan spends six months unconscious in hospital. Read how Sherlock tries to help her when she has finally woken up. But… it's not so simple. Why? Joan doesn't remember anything about her time with Sherlock.
1. Chapter 1

This story's idea came to my mind last month and I have been working on it since. I have already three more chapters waiting to be published. As you know, I don't own anything what you'll recognize in this story. My native isn't English. And again... Please review and tell your thoughts about this so I can develop my skills as a writer. Enjoy...

* * *

"This is useless", Joan whined and sighed.

"Well, we did find at least one interesting file", Sherlock pointed out. He threw the file on the table.

Joan and Sherlock were at the precinct rifling through old cold cases. Joan was sitting on a chair and Sherlock lay on the floor of the file room surrounded by dozens of files. They had been doing it for five hours now.

"Sherlock? Would you take the Anderson file home with you?" Joan asked.

"Yeah, sure", he said and looked at his watch. "Oh, I had better get going. Alfonso is already waiting." Sherlock stood up and grabbed the file from her hand. Then he began to put his coat on.

"How long are going to be here?" Sherlock asked.

"For the next two hours, I think. If you have something, call me. And, I'll text you when I'm coming home", Joan said reading a file.

"Yeah, okay." Sherlock wrapped his scarf around his neck. "And, Watson?"

"Yeah?" Joan lifted her gaze from the file looking over her reading glasses at him.

"Be careful when you... come home. It's really slippery out there." Sherlock said and pointed to the door.

Joan smiled. "You too, okay?" she said and laid her gaze back to the papers.

"Yeah... Bye!"

"Bye!"

* * *

Sherlock went to the corridor to order an elevator. Bell was heading home too and was standing right next to him.

"Going home early, ha?" Bell asked when they entered to the lift.

"Yeah", Sherlock sighed. He wasn't on the mood to speak.

"Where's Joan?"

"She is in the file room, rifling through some old cold cases."

Bell looked at him curiously.

"I left her there because I have an errand to run. She'll be ready in… one hour and 57 minutes", Sherlock said not looking at Bell.

"I didn't ask."

The elevator stopped and the doors opened.

"Yes, you did", Sherlock said and got out from the elevator and then outside from the precinct.

* * *

When the cold January air reached him, he shivered. It was really cold outside. He tightened his scarf around his neck and took his gloves out from his pockets. Then he began to walk towards the nearest subway station.

After a moment, Sherlock's phone clinked. He grabbed the phone from his pocket and unlocked it. Alfonso had sent him a message.

02.08 p.m. Alfonso

"Where're you?"

02.09 p.m. Me

"On the way"

* * *

Joan had fallen asleep. She sat on the chair and her head was resting on her hands on the table. Gregson had entered the room and was now looking at her.

"Joan", he said. "Joan." He poked her a little bit and she raised her head really quickly.

"Yeah?" she asked rubbing her eyes.

"You were sleeping."

Suddenly Joan was fully awake.

"What's the time?" she asked quickly.

"It's five to three. Don't worry."

Joan sighed.

"A long night?"

"Yeah... It's always with Sherlock." Joan yawned and untangled her hair. "We finished work around three a.m."

"What did you do? You haven't even a case to solve. That's why you're rifling through those old cold cases." Gregson sat on the table.

"We organized books, files and some other papers. It's really messy in the brownstone. There is like hundreds of papers on the floor and on the tables in the brownstone."

"Joan... Have you two ever considered some kind of vacation? It would do great to your sometimes overworked minds."

"Well, my friends are heading to Florida and I thought that I could go. But... I don't know. I wouldn't care to leave Sherlock here", Joan sighed and leaned back in her chair.

"He is a grown-up man, you know", Gregson pointed out. "Well, at least to some extent."

Joan smiled. "Yeah. I just thought that he might need my help with something. I don't really know", she muttered.

"I'm not really good at these things but I can see that you're quite fond of him."

"Yeah... He is my only friend who truly understands me. It's really nice."

They sat in silence for a moment and it was broken by Joan's yawning.

"Maybe I should go home to get some rest." Joan stretched her arms.

"Yeah, enough sleep keeps your brain and body on form", Gregson said and got up from the table.

"You sounded just like Sherlock", Joan laughed. She grabbed her bag and coat from the floor.

"That man had affected us in many ways."

Joan got up from the chair and began to put her coat on.

"Let me help you with that", Gregson said and pointed her coat.

"Oh, thanks." She handed him the coat and he helped her to get it on.

"You know, Thomas. Even though Sherlock is sometimes a little, or a lot, childish, he can still be like a gentleman."

Gregson opened the door for her.

"I know. Just keep that in mind when he'll piss you off next time." They both laughed.

"I'm sure I will. Bye!"

"Bye!"

* * *

In front of the precinct Joan threw her bag over her shoulder. She wrapped her coat tighter against her body and put her beret on. Then she hailed a taxi.

"Hello! To Brooklyn, please", Joan said to the driver. He was a nice looking quite young man.

"Okay, fasten your seat belt. It's really slippery around here."

Joan heard straight away his Canadian accent and thought that without her job with Sherlock she wouldn't have paid attention to it, at least not so much. Then she put her seat belt on and took her phone out from her pocket.

03.01 p.m. Me

"I'm coming home."

Joan put the phone away and looked out of the window. A thick layer of snow covered the whole city. Dog walkers had covered their dogs with different kind of coats and jackets. Children were having fun on the sidewalks. They had built snowmen and snow lanterns. Some boys were having snowball fight. A mailman also received a fair share of their fun. Some boy threw a snow ball straight to his back. Joan laughed.

"This slipperiness drives me bonkers", the taxi driver said suddenly. "Did you hear about the kastaveup, by the way?"

"About what?" Joan asked nonplussed.

"Sorry, I meant the accident. On the Brooklyn Bridge."

"No, I didn't. What happened?"

"Two cars crashed into each other. The other driver had lost control of his car and the car had slid to the other lane. After that they were also hit by another three cars. Luckily no-one died. The bridge is closed so we have to pick another route."

"Okay. That's fine by me."

* * *

One kilometer later the taxi driver spoke again. "It's really pretty out there, eh?"

"Yes, there is", Joan said quietly and thought what to say next. "You are from Canada, aren't you?" she tried to maintain the conversation.

"Yeah, my family lives there. I moved here three months ago."

"How about your acc..." Joan phone rang. "Hi!" she greeted.

"Where're you?" Sherlock asked.

"In a taxi. Why?"

"Clyde needs more lettuce. Would you go to the nearest shop to pick it up?"

"Yes, sure. Where are you?"

"Home, why?"

"Just asked."

"Okay, bye!"

"Bye!"

Joan slipped her phone back to her pocket.

"Could I change my destination?" she asked.

"Yeah, sure. Where do you want to go?"

"To the nearest store, please. I need to buy something."

The taxi driver stopped in front of a small store.

"Am I waiting here?" the taxi driver asked.

"No, you don't have to. I have less than a kilometer walk home."

The taxi driver looked at her.

"Are you absolutely sure because it looks like it's starting to snow?"

"Yeah, I'm sure", Joan said and looked at the sky. She paid the bill and jumped out from the car.

* * *

After Joan had bought the lettuce and some milk she began to walk back home. Snowing had started and it was thickening fast. The visibility wasn't really good. The wind was blowing hard and she shivered. Joan covered her head with a hood. She walked down on the sidewalk and started to cross a street. Just a moment after she notice a car which was turning straight towards her. Joan tried to dodge but the car had too much speed. The car hit her and she fell to the snow hitting her head to the pavement.


	2. Chapter 2

Hello everyone! As you already know, I don't own anything what you'll recognize in this story. My native isn't English. And again and again... Please review and tell your thoughts about this so I can develop my skills as a writer. Enjoy...

* * *

Joan was lying unconscious on the cold pavement. The car driver came quickly beside her and called 911. Shortly blue and red lights flashed in the end of the road and the ambulance arrived to the scene of the accident. The temperature was cooling down all the time and the paramedics made the quick research and carried Joan to the ambulance. On the way to hospital they found out at least her left wrist was broken.

* * *

Sherlock was getting nervous. Joan should have come home at least forty minutes ago. She didn't answer his calls or messages. Sherlock had heard ambulance siren sounds nearby and that hadn't made his feeling any better. He was now pacing around the brownstone.

"Watson, Watson... Where are you?" Sherlock spoke irritated and worried. "Please, don't be injured, please."

Sherlock heard someone knock the front door.

_"Oh God"_, Sherlock thought and went to open the door. _"I, of course, haven't anything else to do than have a chat with someone..."_

A police man from the NYPD was standing behind the door.

"Yeah?" Sherlock said irritated.

"Um, Captain Gregson sent me to pick you up..." the police man said nervously.

"Where?" Sherlock asked confused.

"To hospital", the police man almost whispered.

"Watson..." Sherlock muttered concerned and terrified. "What had happened? Is she alright?"

"I'm sorry, I... I don't know exactly. She was in a road accident. They said that they'll give you more information when we get there."

Sherlock grabbed quickly his coat, scarf and phone and banged the front door close behind him when they were heading outside.

* * *

The car ride was like torture to Sherlock. He was clenching his teeth and bouncing his feet anxiously.

"Do you know anything about what happened?" he asked suddenly.

"She was in a road accident. A car pumped her to a pavement. I'm not sure but someone said that her condition was critical and the doctors took her straight to the ICU. I know that she is still unconscious but her condition is now stable."

* * *

At the hospital parking lot Sherlock jumped from the still moving car and ran straight inside to the information desk.

"Joan Watson? Where's she?"

A young obviously an intern girl was sitting on the other side of the desk dumbfounded. "I'm not sure I can..."

"Just tell the number!" Sherlock yelled.

"A room number four."

Sherlock began to run towards the door but a nurse stopped him.

"Where are you going?" the nurse asked professionally.

"To a room… number four", Sherlock said out of breath and tried to get past the nurse.

"To the room four? I'm sorry, sir. But only family members are allowed to go there."

Sherlock thought quickly his options to see his partner.

"But I am... her... her brother."

"Really? What's your name?"

"Sherlock Holmes."

The nurse looked at him in a bit of disbelief but let him past.

* * *

The room was murky. The curtains were pulled down. A small shimmer of light illuminated Joan, lying on a bed. Gregson was sitting next to her.

"How did you get here?" Sherlock whispered walking towards the bed.

"I showed my badge. How about you?"

"I said I was her… brother."

Gregson smirked.

"How is she?" Sherlock asked walking beside Joan and taking her hand to his.

"Well, as you can see some scratches on her forehead, her left wrist is broken. The doctors said that three of her ribs are broken too. They didn't say anything else."

"She looks so peaceful." Sherlock sat on the nearest chair and buried his head to his hands. "This is all my fault..." he muttered.

"Hey, hey... Don't blame yourself", Gregson said and came closer to him. "It was an accident. It isn't anyone's fault."

"If I hadn't sent her to a shop, she would have been at home now, safe."

"Things like these happen. They can't be predicted. They just... happen."

Sherlock fell somewhere in his state of thinking and didn't answer anything. He stayed in that same position until a doctor came into the room. She was a quite young and beautiful lady and she obviously wasn't from the USA.

"Hello, Mr. Holmes?" the doctor asked looking at Sherlock.

"Yeah?" he raised his head and got up from the chair.

"I have some news about your sister. Please, come with me to the corridor."

* * *

"Sir?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you alright. You look a little pale", the doctor said and looked at his face. "I think you might want to sit down." She pointed the nearest bench.

Sherlock knew immediately that something really unpleasant had happened. He didn't say anything. He just did what he was told to do. The doctor sat beside him.

"Mr. Holmes I'm so sorry to tell you but I have some bad news... Your sister has intracranial hemorrhage. It's a kind of brain injury."

"Oh Lord..." Sherlock sighed and buried his head to his hands. "Will she... Will she survive?"

"If she stays strong for two days, her chances to survive will increase many percent", the doctor said. "We purposely keep patients with traumatic brain injuries in comatose so the brain gets time to heal. When the swelling has descended and the other injured parts in her head are fine, we slowly wake her up."

"Are you... Are you saying that she'll be in coma?" Sherlock asked desperately.

"She hit her head pretty badly. I'm sorry but I think we haven't any other choice."

"For how long?"

"I don't know precisely. I would say twenty-four to forty weeks."

"Forty weeks?" Sherlock asked. He began to feel dizziness.

"I said twenty-four to forty", the doctor corrected. "We do everything to get her brain heal as soon as possible."

"Forty weeks", Sherlock muttered.

"If someone asked me, I would say, in her case personally less than thirty weeks."

"Thirty? It's seven months. How I'm going to..." Sherlock began look like he was going to panic.

"Please, try to calm down, okay?" the doctor tried to calm him down. "Brain injuries heal slowly. In some cases patient can be coma for many years. You're lucky, sir. If something fatal doesn't happen, your sister will be with you no later than eight months."

_"This can be happening"_, Sherlock thought. He was now staring straight to the doctor's piercing dark brown eyes.

"The broken wrist will heal in a few weeks..."

The doctor's voice began to echo in his head.

"Broken... but... heal..."

The doctor's voice went farther and farther away.

_"Her eyes are just like Joan's"_, Sherlock thought.

"The ribs... approximately... in two weeks..."

Her voice blurred in his head.

"You need to... in the end..."

Her voiced totally disappeared.

_"How I never looked closely when Joan smiled... The smile on her lips... when she finds out something..."_ he thought.

"Maybe if I... Sir... Sir?"

Sherlock was coming back from his trance.

"Sir? Are you alright?" the doctor asked. "Sir?"

"Yeah... I... Um... I might need some fresh air", Sherlock said and got up from the bench.

"Sir? But, sir?"

Sherlock didn't respond. He walked out from the hospital leaving the dumbfounded doctor to sit on the bench.

* * *

The air was getting colder and colder. The snowing hadn't stopped. Sherlock shivered but that didn't mattered at the time he sat on a bench, thinking about what had happened. He couldn't get the image of her from his mind. The image of her, riffling through some old papers her reading glasses on her nose. Sherlock was having a headache.

_"I should go inside. I can't come to hospital if I am having fever or cold"_, Sherlock thought and decided to go back to Joan's room.

* * *

He sat down on the edge of Joan's bed. He took her healthy hand to his and kissed her palm softly. He lifted her hand to his cheek. It was warm and soft.

"I promise I'll take care for you. Like partners do", Sherlock whispered and laid her hand back on the bed. He stroked her hair aside from her forehead. Little red scratches were covering the left side of it. "I promise..."

"I knew I would find you here", a familiar female voice said from the door. Mary Watson was standing there as stylish as always her coat hanging on her arm.

"Oh my..." Sherlock said and stood up quickly. "Um... I... I was... Um..."

"You were what, Sherlock?" Mary asked a mischievous look on her face.

"I... I was checking her wounds", Sherlock said. "I can say that judging by the size of the wounds; There won't be permanent scars in her forehead."

Mary smiled and walked on the other side of Joan's bed. "I just wish that she'll be fine. The sooner the better."

"Yeah. I wish that too. Did you hear the news about her condition?" Sherlock asked and got his coat from a chair.

"Yes, I did. The doctor told me. It's sad but she is a strong girl. She has always been..." Mary smiled. "I'm sure she'll cope with this."

"She, if anyone, will..." Sherlock grabbed his scarf and started to walk out from the room.

"It's funny, you know", Mary said and sighed.

Sherlock stopped but didn't say anything.

"At the first I thought that you are just an addict who has ruined his life." Mary turned to Sherlock and he looked at her a little embarrassed.

"I thought that Joan had made a huge mistake when he decided to live with you... But as I get to hear more about you from Joan's stories, I was starting to see you how Joan does. The stories about you tell me that… she finds you very fascinating. The glitter in her eyes when she speaks about you. It tells me that she has really found her place."

Sherlock smiled. Then he remembered the question which had been in his mind for very long time.

"What about medicine?"

Mary sighed. "I would really do anything to get Joan to renew her medical license. She worked so hard to get it... But… she made up her mind and stayed with you."

A silence fell upon the room but Sherlock soon broke it.

"How about her brother, Oren? Is he coming around?" Sherlock asked.

"He's coming tomorrow. I called him as soon as I got to hear what had happened."

That was the last phrase which Sherlock heard from Mary Watson's mouth on that day. He wrapped the scarf around his neck and left the building behind him.

* * *

Sherlock entered to the precinct. He was heading to the file room quickly but Gregson stopped him.

"What are you doing?" he asked. He had noticed Sherlock's hyperactivity which had been caused by the worry.

"I'm going to do something useful. I couldn't be in the hospital anymore", Sherlock explained and tried to get past Gregson.

"I know you, and to be honest, in the state like that you're just chagrin."

"What? You don't understand. I need to do something before this thing drives me crazy."

"Go home. Sleep. You can't be here." Gregson tried to push him back.

"No, no. I can't sleep. I need to do something..."

"Listen, Sherlock! Please, go home, or back to the hospital to see Joan, but don't come here, okay? You need rest or something else to think about."

After the argument Sherlock finally gave up and began to toddle home.

* * *

When Sherlock had opened the front door of the brownstone and walked inside, he threw his coat and scarf on the couch. After that he took a look around the house.

He felt dustiness and the smell of old papers in his nose. He heard Clyde crawling in his box if he really carefully listened. He felt loneliness, anger and worry inside him. And for the first time he really saw how messed up the brownstone was. Just as messed up as his thoughts.

Sherlock walked past Joan's room but stopped and turned around. He walked to the door and opened it.

_"This is the only room which isn't messy in this house"_, Sherlock thought. The bed had been made and all of Joan's stuff was neatly lined up on a table.

Sherlock stepped into the room and looked around. He walked over to the windows and pulled the curtains down.

Then he walked over to her wardrobe. He opened the closet's door and looked at the clothes inside. They were too neatly stacked. Sherlock felt the scent of her perfume in his nose and immediately felt a strange feeling inside him.

Sherlock took Joan's black sweater from the closet and sat on her bed.

_"Bloomingdales"_, he thought. He remembered well where she had bought this one. He sniffed the sweater and the smell of her perfume and her shampoo filled his nose. He stared at the shirt for a while and then tiredness finally began to press his eyes close.

* * *

I have been thinking during these last three days about the relationship between Joan and Sherlock. I have been asking myself that do I want a lovestory between these two or do I just keep them friends in this story. I don't actually know. That's why I'm asking about this question from you. Comments, reviews, opinions, suggestions... Just let me know... :)


	3. Chapter 3

Okay... This is the chapter number three. I have pondered the relationship between Joan and Sherlock and I have finally decided that I gonna write a love story. This chapter is't going to be very exciting but I promise the next chapter will contain some mixed up feelings. I don't own anything you will recognize and my native isn't English. Thank you all for your kind reviews. Enjoy...

* * *

In the next morning sunlight shone dimly through the curtains. Sherlock woke up early. He squinted his eyes and stretched.

"Oh my Lord!" he said and got up from the bed after he had realized his whereabouts. He had fallen asleep on Joan's bed and slept there all night.

_"What's the time?"_ Sherlock thought and looked at her alarm clock. It said 7.21 a.m. Sherlock sighed. He got quickly out from the room and ran straight to the kitchen to make breakfast.

He grabbed a bowl from the counter and threw cereal in it. Then he poured some milk among with them. He made coffee and sat on the kitchen table to think and ponder things.

* * *

Sherlock's feelings were totally mixed up. The silence in the house reminded him about the one moment, after Hemdale and before Joan. He missed her a lot but the silence felt nice, at least for a moment.

When Sherlock had got out from Hemdale he had desperately wanted peace and silence. He had wanted to be alone. No friends, no family and no a person who calls him- or herself a sober companion to say what to do. He had wanted to be free without dos and don'ts. He hadn't wanted anyone near him. He hadn't wanted to meet new people and he definitely hadn't wanted to fall in love... But did he love Joan? Maybe in a friend kind of way. At least that was what he kept telling to himself.

Now Sherlock had the peace and the silence but he felt like something was missing. Someone was missing. Like the other half of him was somewhere else. He didn't hear the sounds from upstairs when Joan is usually rolling in her bed in the mornings. He didn't hear the sounds of her voice when she speaks on the phone or yells his name. He didn't hear anything and that was making Sherlock suddenly insane.

Angrily he threw his coffee mug to the corner of the kitchen and it broke into hundreds of pieces. Sherlock was angry with himself. He blamed himself what had happened to Joan.

_"How in earth I was so stupid?" _Sherlock thought. _"Watson is always on time home. She always informs if something comes up and she can't come home on time. I should have known that something had happened. I was so goddamn stupid."_

* * *

When Sherlock had finally calmed himself down he went to the shower. After brushing his teeth he went to search for a clean shirt. He was walking in the hallway when he stopped again. He had left the door of Joan's room slightly ajar. He was closing it when he noticed the rumpled bed. He entered to the room. He pulled the curtains up and made the bed. Then he closed the door behind him and jogged downstairs. He went through all his shirts and luckily he found a clean one and put it on. He picked up his phone from the table and then he threw the last piece of lettuce to Clyde's box. He grabbed his coat and scarf from the couch and headed to the cold New York air.

* * *

Sherlock was heading to a flower shop. He entered in a small cute flower shop full of different flowers and plants. A bell chimed above him when he opened the door. Behind a counter was standing a chirpy-looking old lady with funny-looking glasses. She was at least two heads shorter than Sherlock.

Sherlock went to look at the roses when suddenly someone was standing behind him.

"May I help you, young man?" the old lady asked. There was something in her what Sherlock didn't like. "Um... Roses. I'm looking for roses", Sherlock explained.

"For your lady?" the woman asked and took a bouquet of roses from the shelf. "Ten dark red roses and white baby's breath. This is perfect."

"Um... I think I might like those pink roses over there. I think they're pretty."

The lady put the bouquet back and took the bouquet of pink roses from another shelf.

"Ten pink roses and white baby's breath. Is this good?" the lady asked.

"Yeah, that it is then. Thank you", Sherlock said and paid the bouquet. "Bye."

"Bye!"

* * *

Sherlock heard the echo of his footsteps when he was walking along the hospital's corridor and heading to Joan's room. At the door he suddenly stopped.

_"What if she isn't there...? What if she wasn't strong enough?"_ Sherlock wiped quickly those thoughts from his mind and opened the door.

Joan was lying on the bed just like yesterday. Sherlock felt some kind of relief seeing her. He took a glance at the room. It looked really different than yesterday. Curtains had been pulled up and the bright light illuminated the room. Sherlock went next to Joan's bed and stroked her forehead. Her make-up had faded and her freckles were visible. He liked her freckles.

"Hey... I brought you roses", Sherlock whispered and put the bouquet to a vase near her bed. He sat down on a comfy chair and looked at her. He didn't release his gaze from her until he had sat there for an hour and when the doctor came in.

"Oh, Mr. Holmes. Good morning", the doctor said. "How are you?"

The doctor was same than yesterday. Only now she was wearing a little more makeup.

"I'm fine. Um... I better get going", Sherlock muttered and got up from the chair.

"No, no... I mean... I actually would like to speak with you. If you have time of course..." the doctor said.

"I... Yes, sure", Sherlock answered.

"Good... Shall we go to a cafeteria to talk? I have been here all night and I haven't eaten my breakfast yet so... You can eat too if you like", the doctor suggested.

"Okay", Sherlock said and grabbed his coat with him.

* * *

In the cafeteria Sherlock and the doctor went to a peaceful corner to speak privately. Sherlock had bought a coffee and the doctor was eating her breakfast.

"Okay..." the doctor began. "First of all I'd like to know what your first name was."

"Sherlock. And you're…?"

"Oh, I forgot to introduce myself yesterday. Aviva", the doctor said and stretched her hand for a handshake. "Aviva Floyd."

"Sherlock Holmes", Sherlock said and shook her hand. "So, um... You had something to talk about."

"Oh, yes", the doctor started. "This is a standard procedure which we recommend to some people who has close relatives and loved ones receiving long-term care in hospital. Talking to someone, and in this case our hospital's psychiatrist, can help the pain and grief. In a case like yours it's totally free and you can speak with her at any time you want."

"Yeah, I... I think I'll cope with this. I don't usually clarify things like these by talking. But thanks for the offer."

"Okay then... Um... About your sister..."

"Yeah?"

"We're about to transfer her to another room in three days, if her condition stays stable of course. Out from the ICU", Aviva said.

"Where?"

"The third floor, a room number 17."

"I keep that in mind."

An awkward silence began to form between the two but Sherlock broke it with a question: "You're from Israel, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am. I moved here when I was little", she explained. "I can hear that you have a British accent. Where're you from?"

"Well, I have lived in London almost all my life", Sherlock said.

Dr. Floyd stared at him questioningly and asked: "You're not her sister, am I right?" The question sounded more like a statement. Sherlock made an expression which told that she was right.

"You know, Mr. Holmes. I knew Watson when she was still a surgeon. We weren't best friends but we were like acquaintances. We got along and we worked together for awhile."

Sherlock didn't say anything.

"Who are you to her?" the doctor asked.

"I... We're co-workers. We're consulting detectives for the NYPD", he told.

"Oh, really? That sounds fun. Um… Do you know anything about her personal life? I mean, where does she live, how is her family and other things. My colleagues and I were very worried about her when she left medicine so I'd like to know something about her."

"Um... Her personal life. I... Well, she lives... Um... in a same… apartment than me and..."

"Really?" Aviva cut him off. "Oh God. I'm so sorry. I should have understood that you're..."

"No, no, no. We're just partners. I thought that um... it's more effective to work together if we live in a same apartment so..."

"You're like partners?"

"Yeah, we are."

"Dr. Floyd!" a nurse yelled from the other side of the cafeteria. "We need you now! Come quickly!"

Dr. Floyd jumped up from the bench.

"It was nice to speak with you Mr. Holmes!" she said when she was running towards the nurse.

* * *

Sherlock went back to Joan's room and sat on the chair next to her. He took her hand to his. Suddenly the doctor's sayings floated back to his mind.

_"What are we exactly? Partners? Friends? Very good friends?" _Sherlock thought. _"I'm sure people who get to know we live in a same flat think for the first time that we're something more than friends..." _Sherlock laughed. He stretched and took a more comfortable position in a chair. And there he sat, by her side, looking at her every day and many hours. Until after three times transferring a room, six months, two weeks and three days, she finally woke up.

* * *

Please review, tell your thoughts, comments and opinions, follow, favorite... I will thank you. :)


	4. Chapter 4

Hello everyone! This chapter is a bit shorter than the others but I promise the next one will be longer than any other chapter in this story. This chapter is a start for the events when Joan tries to learn to trust Sherlock, to understand him and so on... I don't own anything you'll recognize and my native isn't English. Enjoy...

* * *

It was a sunny Tuesday morning. The sun shone brightly, the weather was warm and the wind was blowing slightly. Sherlock was heading to the flower shop to pick up a bouquet of roses like every other Tuesday. The lady from a store already had the roses in her hand when Sherlock entered the shop.

When he was paying the bouquet his phone rang. The call was from the hospital.

"Hello", Sherlock answered.

"Good morning. Is this Mr. Holmes?" a female voice asked.

"Yes, I'm Sherlock Holmes. Is everything alright?" Sherlock was a bit worried.

"Well, I have some good news for you. Ms. Watson has just woken up."

"What?"

"You can come here but you have to give her some space. She is a little groggy but she'll be fine."

"Oh God, thanks. I'll be there soon." Sherlock hung up the phone and threw a bill to a counter. "Keep the change!" he said, grabbed the roses and ran out from the shop.

* * *

On the sidewalk Sherlock called Gregson.

"Captain, Watson has woken up. Meet me in the hospital lobby immediately."

"Really? Is she..." Gregson started but stopped when he heard Sherlock hanging up the phone.

Sherlock took his whistle out from his pocket and blew hard.

* * *

In the hospital lobby Gregson and Bell were already waiting when Sherlock entered.

"Good morning Holmes", Gregson greeted.

"Morning", Sherlock said. He was happier than in many months.

"Oh, you have a nice bunch of roses in your hand, ha. Shall we?" Gregson asked and pointed the stairs.

"Yeah, absolutely", Sherlock said. He started to walk quickly towards the stairs and Joan's room, Gregson and Bell behind him. Dr. Floyd was just coming from Joan's room.

"Oh, good morning. How are you today?" the doctor asked politely.

"I'm fine thanks. Can I go in?" Sherlock asked nervously. He wanted to see Joan desperately right away.

"Um... Sure. But please, go there one at a time. She is a little bit groggy and confused. We mustn't strain her brain. I'll go get her some medicine to her headache", the doctor said and left.

"I'll stay right here with Bell if something happens. You go to see her", Gregson said and patted Sherlock on his shoulder.

"Okay", Sherlock sighed and slowly opened the door.

* * *

"Hey..." Sherlock whispered as he stepped in the room. "I... brought you roses. Um... How are you?" Sherlock closed the door behind him.

"My head hurts", Joan said quietly squinting her eyes and staring at him. Her voice was rough.

"I think it's normal..." Sherlock said and sat on a chair next to her.

Joan just kept staring at him.

"What time is it?" she asked.

"It's five to nine in the morning. On Tuesday."

"Tuesday?"

"Yes."

Joan stared at him and didn't say a word.

"Tuesday?" Joan asked again.

"Yes, Watson. It's Tuesday. And I think I need to tell you something." Sherlock dragged his chair closer to her bed. "You are in hospital because you were in a car accident." Sherlock kept a little pause to observe her expression. Then he continued. "You were hit by a car. You fell and hit your head. It caused you… a small brain injury. That's why you were in coma for... almost seven months." Sherlock almost whispered the last three words.

Joan stared at him for awhile. Then she spoke. "What month is it now?" she asked nonplussed.

"It's August", he said.

"Oh God", Joan said and put her hand on her forehead. "Is everything... I mean, has someone paid my rent or...?"

"Wait, what rent?" Sherlock asked confused.

"The rent of my apartment. If I don't pay it the landlord will kick me out", Joan explained.

"Hold on, I think you are a bit confused. You don't have an own apartment. You live with me", Sherlock said and pointed himself.

Joan stared at him confused and with a little trepidation.

"Watson? You know who I am, right?" Sherlock asked concerned.

"I... No, I don't. I mean... Should I?" Joan asked.

"Are you serious?" he asked to confirm her statement. He tried to stay calm.

"I'm sorry. I don't recognize you. I… I think I haven't seen you before. Who are you?"

Sherlock got up slowly from the chair. "Excuse me?" he said and stormed out from the room.

* * *

On his way out Sherlock almost toppled the doctor when she was opening the door.

"Oh, Mr. Holmes. Is everything alright?" she asked but didn't get the answer.

Sherlock started to run towards the stairs and dropped the roses on the floor. Gregson and Bell were standing outside the room waiting for the news.

"Holmes! What did happen?!" Gregson asked but Sherlock just kept running. He ran after him and caught him in stairs. "Holmes!? Tell me!"

Sherlock stared at him with glazed eyes without saying anything. Gregson could say he was panicking.

"Holmes?!" Gregson shook him by his shoulders. Now Bell had come to see what had happened.

"She..." Sherlock swallowed. "She doesn't... Oh my God. She..."

"She doesn't what, Sherlock?" Gregson asked.

"She doesn't remember..." Sherlock muttered.

"She doesn't remember what?" Bell asked.

"She doesn't remember me." Sherlock fell on the stairs. "She doesn't remember who I am." Sherlock sat on the stairs and buried his face into his hands. "Please, just leave me alone for a moment."

Gregson stared at him not saying a word. Then he turned and walked away Bell on his heels.

* * *

Sherlock sat on the stairs for awhile. Then he got up and went straight home. He threw his clothes away and jumped on the couch. Then, after almost seven months, the tears finally came and the sadness and rage burst out.

* * *

Please, review and tell your thoughts about this chapter... Love you all! :)


	5. Chapter 5

So... Here is the chapter number five! Phew I must say... I have had so many exams at school. Well, now I'm back with a bit more longer chapter as I promised. And let me once again remind that I don't own anything what you'll recognize in this story. My native isn't English. Enjoy...

* * *

These six months and a few weeks after the accident, Sherlock had stayed strong without one single tear. He had kept telling himself that everything would be alright after Joan wakes up. He had been positive. That was what he had decided. That would be the better option.

Sherlock had really lived in a thought that everything would be fine. They could continue their work as consulting detectives and their normal everyday life as before. He was already imagined all that in his mind. Now the thoughts were ruined and Sherlock felt like someone would have torn him into a little pieces.

"This isn't fair", he cried. "Oh, my God." He was lying on the living room's couch and drying his tears away.

"This is so unfair... So unfair", he sighed. There was a one single question in his head: Why?

_"Why this is happening? I missed her so much and then when we finally meet again, she doesn't even recognize me"_, Sherlock thought. _"But what if this is temporary..."_ Sherlock sighed. _"Still... So unfair... So unfair."_ He closed his eyes and wondered what he would do next.

* * *

After almost forty-five minutes later, the ringing of the doorbell raised him from his thoughts.

_"I won't definitely open that door. I don't want to speak with anyone at the moment"_, Sherlock thought. He heard another ringing. _"But if it's something about Watson. I need to go to open the door."_

Sherlock got up quickly from the couch and wiped his eyes to get rid of the traces of him crying. Still he had to open the front door with red and puffy eyes.

* * *

Behind the door was standing Dr. Floyd.

"Hi", she greeted silently.

"Hi", Sherlock responded a bit surprised. "Do... come in." He opened the door and let her step inside. "Um... It's something about... Watson, I presume." He shut the door behind her.

"Yeah... I heard the news. You took this memory thing quite heavily", Dr. Floyd said.

"Well, who wouldn't have?" Sherlock asked a bit irritated.

"No, no. Don't understand me wrong. It's totally understandable in this kind of situation. But what I meant was... I came here because I couldn't just call. This situation is... Well... That's why I actually came here. To talk about it. If you just want to speak with me."

"Oh, sure. Please, come with me to the living room."

Sherlock walked into the living room Dr. Floyd behind him.

"Please, have a seat." He pointed the couch.

Dr. Floyd sat down and placed her bag beside her. The she took a notebook from her bag.

Sherlock sat on a chair in the other side of the room.

Dr. Floyd took a deep breath.

"Okay... After I heard that you had run away and that Ms. Watson hadn't recognized you I made some tests. I'm sorry to say but... your partner is suffering from memory loss. She is living the year 2009."

Sherlock stared at her horrified.

"The year 2009?" he asked and took a deep breath. He tried to calm himself down. He couldn't start crying in front of the doctor. He just couldn't. "So..." Sherlock sighed. "She doesn't remember living with me, or being a sober companion... Or her mistake which cost her patient's life", Sherlock ensured.

Dr. Floyd nodded. "She doesn't remember anything after the year 2009. She believes she is still a surgeon."

"Oh my Lord…" Sherlock sighed and fell somewhere in his state of thinking.

Sherlock and Dr. Floyd had become quite familiar with each other. Sherlock had been quite uncommunicative at first. But when he had realized that he could trust her and she just wanted to help, Sherlock began to feel more comfortable with her. Sherlock had spoken everything and cleared up some things. They have even discussed about the time when Joan was still his sober companion. Dr. Floyd knew a lot but not everything. Not at all.

"Well, is this... memory loss only temporary or...?" Sherlock asked but couldn't form right words.

"We don't know exactly. But we assume that her memory would come back if it was stimulated."

"So… What should I do?" he asked.

"When she'll be released from the hospital her life should be as normal as possible. So as you have lived with her and been with her almost 24/7, it would be the best that you spend time with him as much as possible. Thus her memory could come back."

"So, do you mean that...? She should get to know me again?"

"If you want that, then yes."

"I do really much but… I don't know. I'm so different than her. She would never like to spend time with me."

"Just be yourself. I have got to know you during these past six months, Sherlock. I can say that she is a really important person to you and I know that you aren't letting her go just like that…" Dr. Floyd said and smiled. "I'm just saying that... she was wondering where did you go earlier. She said that she wanted to know something more about you."

"Really?"

"Yes... When I told that your name is Sherlock, she asked that what a name was that."

Sherlock laughed a little bit. Actually he hadn't laugh properly in many months.

"Well… I think I should be heading to hospital then."

"Excellent... Are you coming with me or...? "

"I think I should take a taxi. I have some things to do..." Sherlock said.

"Okay, well then..." the doctor got up. "It was nice to speak with you Sherlock. Bye."

"Bye."

Dr. Floyd turned around and walked into the foyer. Then she opened the door and left.

Sherlock waited still until he heard the front door clacked close. Then he sprinted to the upstairs straight to Joan's room.

* * *

The room felt dusty and it smelled like anyone wouldn't have lived there in many years. Sherlock hadn't been in the room since the first days of the accident.

_"Oh, maybe I should open a window. It's a bit stuffy here"_, Sherlock thought. He walked towards her night stand and wiped it with a finger. A thin layer of dust was covering it.

Sherlock went to open a window. Then he walked towards her wardrobe. He opened the door and felt a very small faint of her perfume in his nose. It reminded him about the things which he and Joan had experienced together. As partners and best friends. Sherlock felt the familiar pain inside him again. He'd have to start everything all over again. They'd need to start everything again. As almost strangers to each other. That felt really bad... Really, really bad.

_"How I ever going to handle this?"_ he thought. _"Hello, my name is Sherlock Holmes and I'm a former drug addict... Oh God."_

Sherlock took a couple of nice outfits from the closet. A casual and loose one and a little bit more fashionable with jeans and a tighter shirt.

_"Hello, my name is Sherlock Holmes and I'm your housemate..."_ That sounded already a little bit better but not good enough to say it to her.

Sherlock went to a drawer where she kept her socks, bras and panties.

_"Oh, God. I haven't ever done this before..."_ He opened the drawer and first picked up a black pair of socks.

_"She is always reminding me about our boundaries..."_ Sherlock stared at her underwear. Everything was neatly stacked.

_"What does she like? Maybe silk or lace... No, I'll go with cotton. It's nice and comfy."_ Sherlock took a matching pair of black bra and undies from the box and shut the drawer. Then he placed them on the top of the stack of clothes.

_"Oh, God what I'm going to say to her?"_ he asked from himself while he was walking downstairs to pick up a bag where to put her clothes and another important stuff like her toothbrush, her hairbrush and her cellphone.

* * *

On the way to hospital Sherlock stopped by the flower shop.

"Oh, hello", the lady from the counter greeted. "What can I do for you?"

"Well, I... I need one yellow rose", Sherlock announced.

"A yellow one?" the lady asked in astonishment. "Okay... Small, or big, or something between?" The lady looked at him behind her glasses. She really looked like an owl with them.

"A big one, please", Sherlock said.

The lady walked to the small room behind the counter.

After almost a minute and a few clangs the lady came back a really big light yellow rose in her hand.

"There you go. Is this the one?"

"Oh, it's beautiful. How much does it cost?" Sherlock asked hastily.

"Oh, my dear, don't worry. It's on me this time."

"Really? I mean, thank you", Sherlock thanked.

"Oh, go on already. I can see you are in rush, go", the lady insisted.

Sherlock walked quickly out of the shop to the street to hail a taxi.

* * *

In the hospital Sherlock was walking quickly towards Joan's room. At the door, Sherlock decided to knock.

"Okay, try to be polite", Sherlock said to himself and took a deep breath. Then he knocked the door.

After a few seconds Sherlock heard her rough voice on the other side of the door. "Come in!"

Sherlock slowly opened the door and peeked inside.

"Hello!" he greeted.

"Oh, hi!" Joan's face lit up.

"Sherlock Holmes", he introduced himself and stretched his hand for a shake.

"It's nice to meet you. How are you?" Joan asked and shook his hand.

"I'm fine thanks. And you?" Sherlock asked and tried to be polite.

"I'm fine."

"I brought you... Um... A rose. I..." Sherlock handed her the rose and sat down on a chair.

"Oh, it's beautiful", Joan said and got up slowly from the bed.

Sherlock jumped up from the chair to help her. Sherlock hadn't seen her up in over for half a year. Her pace wasn't as smooth and light as it normally was but it felt still really nice to see her walking again.

"Oh no. Thanks for your help but I think I'll manage", Joan said and Sherlock sat reluctantly back on the chair. Sherlock was happy though. Joan's independence, perseverance and strong will weren't disappeared anywhere.

Joan put the rose along with the other flowers and then she walked back and sat on the edge of her bed.

"I... Um... Brought you some clothes", Sherlock said and pointed at the old, scuffed bag.

"Thanks", she said.

Sherlock got up and laid the bag on her bed. Then he sat on the edge of her bed with her.

"I chose some clothes for you because I didn't know what you would like to wear" Sherlock explained and opened the bag. "I pick up something more casual and then something trendier. I picked up your favorite clothes and..."

"Are these my favorite clothes?" Joan asked nonplussed and pulled her black sweater from the bag.

"Yes, they are", Sherlock said and grabbed a smaller plastic bag from the bag.

"Oh, I would think that I use a bit different clothes like I do often... I mean… in 2009", Joan put her hand on her forehead. "I'm sorry. I'm a little bit confused about all this."

"Don't worry. It's perfectly normal. And I'll help you. You just need to ask", Sherlock said and stared at her for a second. "And there is your underwear. I... picked them up because you use to use them very often", Sherlock explained and handed her the small bag.

"Oh, so... you have seen me in my underwear?" Joan asked.

"No, no... I mean. I saw that they were on top of the others in your drawer and they look like they are worn often", Sherlock explained.

"Oh..." Joan said and looked at him a little bit confused. Joan turned her head away and looked out from the window.

"Are you alright?" Sherlock asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I feel just a little bit hungry", she said.

"Okay, we can go to grab something. Just put some clothes on so we can go to the cafeteria..." Sherlock said and left the room. "I'll be waiting outside."

* * *

In the corridor Sherlock sat on a bench. He buried his head in his hands. His mind was racing.

_"She is so different..."_ he thought.

* * *

In the room Joan was putting some clothes and makeup on. She had picked the jeans and the tight shirt to wear. Now she was brushing her hair with the hairbrush.

_"He is quite handsome"_, she thought. _"And he has that lovely British accent."_

She put her hair on a ponytail.

_"What should I ask from him next...?"_

* * *

When Joan came to the corridor Sherlock's face lit up of happiness.

"Well, how do I look?" she asked.

"You look pretty. As always", Sherlock said and got up from the bench. "Shall we?"

* * *

"So... Sherlock?" Joan started and smile. "I heard that we are kind of partners and we live in a same apartment so… I would like to verify some things about me... I mean, about us."

"Yeah?" Sherlock said and ripped the peelings of his banana.

"Well, hm... What are we exactly?"

"Well..." Sherlock swallowed a slice of the banana. "As you said, we live in a same apartment. We are like partners. Co-workers and friends. It's kind of hard to explain."

Joan's took a little break to internalize the new information.

"We live together so... Do we ever have...? You know..."

"No, no... We haven't... We are just friends. I haven't seen you even in underwear so..."

"Well then... I suppose I'm not married but do I have children?"

"No, you don't."

"Okay... Well, next thing I assume that I'm not a surgeon anymore. So… what do I do for living?" Joan asked and took a sip from her juice.

"Well, that is a bit complicated. But we are consulting detectives for the NYPD. We aren't paid from our services but my father..."

"Not paid... What do you mean not paid?" she asked confused.

"Oh! My daughter she is awoke!" a familiar female voice yelled from the other side from the cafeteria. Mrs. Watson was coming fast to hug her daughter.

"Oh, mum." Joan said and got up from the chair. "I really missed you."

"Oh, I did too", Mary Watson said and hugged her tightly. "I came as quickly as I could. Your father is in Florida but I'm here with you now. Oh, my little girl."

"Mum, did you hear about the memory loss?" Joan asked silently after a few moments.

"Yes, I did. And I'm so sorry."

Joan got herself off her mother's tight embrace.

"But darling… Have you thought positively about this? This can be better thing. Maybe this was meant to happen."

"Excuse me?" Sherlock stormed up from table. "What did you say?"

"I meant that maybe the things what had happened to her in these last four years are better when she doesn't remember them", Mary said and turned back to her daughter. "Joan-darling, you can get your life back on track again."

Sherlock was staring Mrs. Watson with anger. When Joan noticed it she tried to alleviate the situation. "Mum, please. I need some information about myself. Don't ruin this."

"But Joan dear. Who do you trust more? Your mother or a drug addict?" Mary asked.

"What?" Joan asked confused and turned to speak to him. "What!? A drug addict?"

"A former drug addict", Sherlock corrected with emphasis on the word former.

"Why didn't you tell me about that?" Joan stared right into his eyes.

"I'm sorry. I haven't any chance to tell you. You were my sober companion Watson… that how we met at the first time. Please… Watson?"

"I think I need a little bit time of my own", Joan said and turned to leave but Sherlock grabbed her from her wrist. Unfortunately, it was her left hand which just was broken. Joan winced in pain when she pulled her hand out from her grip.

"Oh God, Watson… I'm so sorry… Watson…" Sherlock regretted.

"Okay… First of all… It's Joan. My name is Joan!" she almost yelled and began walking back to her room. "Just leave me alone", she muttered.

"If you really want information about real Joan Watson, I'm the only one who can give it to you", he said but she didn't stopped. She continued walking towards her room tears rolling down her cheeks.

Sherlock turned around just to face Joan's angry mother.

"Can you see what did you do to her? I thought that you wouldn't be violent but I was wrong. You hurt my daughter… I shouldn't trust you. Just go, please. And leave my family alone. I can take this from here", Mary Watson said and turned to leave. "I don't want you in her life anymore."

Sherlock didn't say anything. He sat on the bench and finished his banana. One tear rolled down his cheek.

* * *

Please share you lovely reviews, comments and thoughts with me! :)


	6. Chapter 6

Hello everyone! This chapter was a bit hard to write because I like to write action and this isn't just like... well you'll see when you read it. I just have to say that this chapter isn't my chef-d'oeuvre but I had to write this to continue the storyline. This chapter is mainly chatting about things between Holmes and Watson. And I have to admit that Sherlock is a bit out of character but I needed to do it so I can develop the relationship between Joan and Sherlock. I didn't own anything you'll recognize and my native isn't English. Please review and enjoy...

* * *

Sherlock had stayed at home for three days after the argument in hospital. He had been sitting on the couch and thinking the past events in hospital. He had tried to distract his thoughts by cleaning up Joan's room and organizing his locks. Sherlock was sure Joan would come back. At least that was what he kept telling himself.

_"Joan is an adult and makes her own decisions"_, he had thought. _"Her mum can't say what she has to do."_

* * *

Sherlock stared at his wall of crazy. He had tried to solve some old cold cases but he was too distracted to think anything else but Watson.

Sherlock was trying to think about a case when he heard knocking on the door.

He got up slowly from the couch and opened the door. He was very surprised.

Joan was standing in front of him.

"Watson", Sherlock sighed. He felt like he could just take her to his tight embrace and never let go.

"Good evening", she said and smiled faintly.

Sherlock sighed and looked at her from her head to her toes. She seemed a bit different. Sherlock couldn't say precisely but there was something different in her.

"I... I just thought that I need to speak with you. If it's fine by you?" she asked.

"Yeah, sure", Sherlock said and kept staring at her. He didn't move a muscle and he was blocking the entrance.

"So... Can I come in?" she asked.

"Oh, sure." Sherlock jumped out of her way. "You are always welcome your own home."

Joan stepped inside and looked around.

_"Am I really living here?"_ she thought in disbelief.

Sherlock walked past her and signed her into the living room.

"Please take a seat."

Joan sat on the couch and sighed.

"So... This is my real home", she said emphasizing the word real.

"Oh, yes, it is", Sherlock said and sat down to the chair on the other side of the room.

The silence began falling upon the two of them.

"I'm sorry", Joan said suddenly.

Sherlock raised his gaze looking at her a bit confused.

"I'm sorry. For everything..." she said. "I... I was really rude at you in hospital and I... never should say what I said to you."

After a small break of silence Sherlock sighed.

"I'm sorry too", he said and looked at her in the eye.

"About what?" she asked.

"When I grabbed your hand I should have remembered the broken..." Sherlock mumbled and looked at his hands.

"No, no Sherlock. It was actually my fault", Joan said.

Sherlock glanced at her confused.

"When you grabbed my hand, it didn't hurt at all", Joan said and felt her wrist. "But... when I wrenched it out from your gentle grasp it did hurt. It was my fault." Joan's voice began to sound like she was going to cry. She looked at her hands and continued. "And then my mum said those horrible things to you and I didn't listen to you... I'm so sorry."

She burst into tears and buried her face in her hands.

Sherlock got up quickly from his chair and sat next to her on the couch. Then he pulled a small white handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her.

"I'm so sorry... I shouldn't... I shouldn't have yelled at... at you", she cried.

Sherlock tried to comfort her laying his hand on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry... When I heard the word drug addict it... it sounded such terrible. I'm so sorry."

"It's alright Watson. I didn't... I heard that a lot when I was still using."

"That is the point Sherlock. I shouldn't have judged you. And then my mum said those awful things to you and I stormed out. I'm such an idiot."

"No, no, you're not", Sherlock tried to comfort her. He wasn't really good at these things. He rubbed her shoulder slowly and gently.

After few minutes when Joan had calmed down Sherlock spoke.

"This is... Actually the first time I see you crying."

Joan looked at him with red and puffy eyes.

"I'm just saying", Sherlock said and shrugged.

Joan crumpled the tissue in her hand and snorted.

"I'm sorry. I don't usually cry in front of anyone", she said a little bit embarrassed.

"It's alright. I won't tell anyone", Sherlock reassured.

Joan smiled and looked at him in the eye. She noticed that he was looking at her cheeks.

"Has my makeup faded?" she asked and felt her cheeks.

"Well... It's just your freckles... They are so... unique", Sherlock said and smiled widely.

Joan put her hands on her cheeks and blushed a little.

"Maybe your mascara has spread just a little bit on you cheeks", he said.

Joan brushed her finger under her eyes and saw little black stains on her finger.

"Oh God, I'm just a mess. Do you have any mirror? I... I don't know where's mine", she said and snorted.

"Let me help you", Sherlock said and stretched his hand to take the handkerchief from her hand.

Joan gave him the tissue a little hesitantly not knowing totally what he was going to do.

Sherlock moved a little closer to her and raised his arm a little bit.

"May I?" he asked, almost in a whisper.

Joan nodded and stared at him straight to his eyes.

Sherlock raised his left arm and laid it slowly on her jaw bone to support her head. Then he brushed her cheek slightly with the handkerchief.

Joan closed her eyes for a moment. They were now just a few inches apart from each other. Sherlock stared at her smooth skin. There weren't any traces from the accident anymore. Her scratches were faded from her forehead just as he had predicted.

Just when Sherlock had finished Joan opened her eyes and moved backwards.

"I... This is... I don't usually... let "strangers" this close to me. I don't know what got into me", Joan said embarrassed and got up from the couch.

Sherlock got up too.

"Hey... Listen to me", Sherlock said friendly and tried to look at her in the eye. "We are not strangers."

Joan took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. It just... I know we have known each other for a long time but... To me... It's like we would have met three days ago."

"I understand..." Sherlock said and nodded. Then he sat down on the couch. "And, by the way, your pocket mirror is above the sink in the bathroom."

Joan smiled faintly and grabbed her bag from the couch.

"Can I use the bathroom?" she asked.

"Sure", Sherlock said and stared at his hands.

"So... where is it?"

"Um... Go upstairs and then left."

"Okay... Thanks", Joan said and walked upstairs.

* * *

In the bathroom Joan looked at herself in the mirror. Her freckles were indeed visible. She improved her makeup and looked at herself. Her face looked better now.

She was just leaving from the bathroom when she noticed an old towel hanging beside the shower. It was her towel and she had got it from her mother. Her name was embroidered to it. Joan brushed her finger on the letters J, O, A and N.

Joan placed her towel back where she took it and then she opened the cupboard. There was her perfume bottle, old mascara, lipstick and some other stuff right beside Sherlock's. She found also her old black pocket mirror.

* * *

Sherlock was sitting still on the couch. He was holding her handkerchief in his hand. He looked at it. It was slightly damp and it has black stains of Watson's mascara on it.

When he heard Joan's high heels clattering to the stairs he folded it neatly and put it to his pocket.

She came to stand next to him.

"So... What are you going to do next?" Sherlock asked and looked at her.

She took a deep breath. "Actually I honestly don't know. I mean... There is so much to talk about and so much information what I want to know about myself", Joan said and sat down on the couch.

Sherlock stared at her for a moment.

"Um... About your mum. What did she tell you?" Sherlock asked silently. "I mean, have you spoken with her?"

"Yes, I have. She told me many things about my life. We discussed almost the whole night", Joan said and smiled.

"Whole night? So you weren't in hospital?" Sherlock asked a bit confused. "Where were you?"

"I... I was at my parents' house. I have stayed there for... two days now", Joan said silently.

"What?" Sherlock asked a bit loudlier than he was supposed to and jumped up from the couch.

Joan didn't say anything. She just stared at him with wide eyes a little bit scared.

"I... I'm sorry. I..." Sherlock tried to calm down and kneeled down in front of her. "I mean... What do you mean? Why... Why no-one informed me from the hospital you were released?"

"I... I don't..." Joan mumbled.

"So... does this mean you're not coming back?"

"I don't know really. My mum…"

Sherlock turned around and began to walk into the kitchen. He needed a little time to think about things.

"Sherlock?" Joan asked but he didn't answer.

* * *

In the kitchen Sherlock grabbed a bowl from the counter and poured serial and milk in it. He knew very well that his behavior wasn't really mature but he couldn't help himself. He took a spoon from the sink and sat down on the floor to eat.

* * *

Meanwhile Joan had got up from the couch and headed back upstairs to search for her room.

She opened the first door and felt the scent of her perfume.

"This have to be my room", she thought and stepped inside. It was really tidy in the room. The bed had been made and everything was cleaned up.

Joan sat on her bed. It felt nice. She looked at the alarm clock on the night stand. It said 10.27 p.m.

Joan sighed and got up from the bed. She walked to her wardrobe and opened the door. She trotted out her black cocktail dress and looked at it with wide eyes.

_"Is this mine?"_ she thought.

She took also some other clothes from the closet and tried a couple of them on before she noticed a file box in the corner of the room. He looked at it with curiosity and set it down on her bed.

_"What is this?"_ she asked from herself. In the side on the box was some numbers, the mark of the NYPD and her signature.

She opened the box and found multiple files of crimes and murders. She took one out and looked at the cover. It read solved and it was her handwriting. She opened the file and shocked.

"Oh God", she breathed and dropped the file accidentally on the floor. It spread all over the floor and revealed some pictures of a crime scene. There was one picture where a woman was lying in a pool of blood.

Joan stacked quickly the papers back into the folder and shut the box.

* * *

Sherlock had finished his cereal and was now walking back to the living room. He knew he wouldn't find Joan sitting on the couch but deep down inside him, he really hoped that.

He walked into the empty living room and sat on the couch.

_"How fool I was?"_ he thought and took the folded handkerchief from his pocket. _"Now she won't ever come back… Damn my temper tantrums." _

He sat still for a moment and then stood up. He switched off the lights and began climbing stairs. He was just going into the bathroom when he noticed dim light coming from Joan's room.

He peeked in and saw Joan sitting on her bed her back facing him. She was wearing her old white cotton cardigan and she had put her hair in a ponytail. She was sifting through a book which Sherlock hadn't seen before.

Sherlock knocked the door and heard Joan turn around.

"Yeah?" she asked.

"It's me. Can I come in?"

"Yeah", she muttered.

Sherlock stepped in the room and noticed immediately that she had riffled through her crime file box and looked at her clothes in her wardrobe. Joan was sitting on her bed staring a small book in her hands. It was red and it has a yellow Chinese dragon on its cover. When she heard Sherlock entering in the room she looked at him.

"Can I sit?" Sherlock asked and pointed the bed.

"Sure", Joan answered and smiled.

Sherlock sat down and looked at the book in her hand.

"I'm sorry I left you earlier. I…" Sherlock tried to explain.

"Temper tantrum. I know that people in stress can behave like children."

"What is that if I may inquire?" Sherlock asked and pointed the book.

"It's nothing... It's just an old book", she said and set it on her lap.

"I know every piece of your property in this house so you must have hidden it very carefully somewhere. I also know that it wasn't in your bag. That tells me it something very special to you", Sherlock said and smiled. "Please, tell me."

Joan laid her eyes on the book and sighed.

"Well, it's nothing important but it's... something from my childhood and that's why I'm keeping it", Joan explained.

Sherlock looked at Joan very curiously ready to hear more.

"I'm sure you're going to laugh but these are old stories what I wrote when I was still a child."

"What happens in the stories?" Sherlock asked curiously.

"The stories tell about a beautiful Chinese princess with long black hair who needs a savior... Then a handsome prince, just like from Disney stories, comes to rescue her and they live happily ever after", Joan said and blushed slightly.

Sherlock stared at her and smiled friendly.

"See, I'm not laughing."

Joan smiled too and put the book to her bag.

"When I was young I hadn't time for write anything like that." Sherlock took a small break then he spoke again.

"You know, I was sure you have left when I came back to the living room."

"I… I wanted to see my room. This is my real home after all", Joan sighed took a deep breath.

"I was supposed to tell you that I spoke with my mum about you and... When I said that you hadn't hurt me in any way she wanted to apologize. She was very sorry speaking to you those things that she didn't want you in my life and stuff. I wish that you understand that she was in a bit of a shock. Do you think you can forgive her?" Joan asked and looked at him in the eye.

"I... Of course... I was also in a bit of a shock and when I grabbed your hand I..."

"Sherlock I already told you... It was my fault. You didn't do anything wrong", Joan said and brushed his shoulder. "Thank you for forgiving my mum. It's really important to me."

"If it's important to you it's important to me…" Sherlock said and smiled. "When we were downstairs I had one question in my mind. I'd like to know your plans for the future. I mean your career?"

"I... When I was younger my mum wanted me to be a surgeon. I wanted to be a surgeon. Mum was so happy when I got my papers and... I think it would be better if I just renewed my medical license. I... I'm sorry. It just... I don't know anything about being a sober companion or a consulting detective. I wasn't sure if I even could deal with murders or dead bodies. I was already shock when I saw a picture of a dead woman from that file."

Sherlock looked at the box in the corner and sighed.

"So, your mother didn't tell about why you quit your job as being a surgeon?" Sherlock asked.

"Well, she said that... Something happened in hospital and I just wanted to quit..."

"Oh..." Sherlock sighed and decided not to tell more. It would be better if she found out all things about her mistake with her patient by herself.

"So... we are not going to... work together anymore I assume?" Sherlock asked a little bit anguished.

"Well, I... I think I... have made my mind going back to medicine."

"Okay... I totally understand", Sherlock said and smiled.

"So, I... I'd like to know if I could store my things here until I found a place to live", Joan said and got up from the bed.

"Sure, I mean, you aren't going to stay here anymore?" Sherlock asked and got up too.

"I'm sorry I... I'm gonna need my own space and peace … and privacy. I think it would be better if I just moved on. Don't you think?"

"If that is what you want, it is the best decision I'm sure", Sherlock said. "But I promise... if this is connected with the fact that I am a man and you're a woman I can assure you that you can trust me." Sherlock stepped a little closer to her.

"I... I do trust you... I mean... I want to trust you but... You have to understand", Joan said.

"I do... understand. I just want you to understand that... You lived here with me over a year. I didn't harm you in anyway... except when I scared you and you fell on the floor or when I threw a ball to your back but..."

"Shh..." Joan said and laid her finger on his lips. "I don't want to hear more not until tomorrow with coffee cup in my hand at a small cafe with you. I want to hear everything about me and my life. And I would also like to know you better. Friends?" she asked and stretched her hand for a shake.

"Friends", Sherlock said and tried to smile. Sherlock began to feel sadness again and that didn't escape from her sight.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm perfectly fine. It's just really great to know such an interesting and clever person that you are", Sherlock said and smiled.

Joan felt herself blushing again.

"I'll see you tomorrow", she said and grabbed her clothes to a big cotton bag from her closet. "I'll call you."

She walked out from the room and out from the brownstone leaving Sherlock standing in the middle of her old room falling into his deepest places of thoughts.

* * *

The next chapter will be definitely more interesting and it'll include more action than this one. Please review and tell your thoughts! :)


	7. Chapter 7

Hello everyone! I would like to convey my big apologies for not posting a new chapter for long time. I'm so sorry. The reason why I hadn't posted for a long time is that I was abroad for almost a month and I hadn't any possibility to post this chapter. I'm really really sorry. Then I have another announcement. My cousin's friend is going to the university and I'm going to rewrite her story Memory of him. I just fell in love with that story and I have a perfect ending for the story. But first things first so I'm not going to rewrite Memory of him before I get this story finished. But... as everyone already know I don't own anything you will recognize and my native is not English. Enjoy...

* * *

The next morning Sherlock was spending his time in Gregson's office. He was sitting on the floor and leaning against the wall in a peaceful corner between the file shelves. He tried to be as invisible as possible.

Sherlock had a piece of old paper in his hand which he was twiddling nervously. It was rustling faintly. He stared at the paper blankly. Then he looked at the time. It was ten past eleven.

Sherlock had sat on the floor for over two hours now. He had tried to organize his thoughts and think rationally. But there were so many things to think about. Most of them were about Joan. Thinking rationally was almost impossible in the situation where he were with her.

At least the precinct was a place where Sherlock could really think something. Home was the place where he just couldn't think at all. There just came too many memories to his sensitive mind.

Sherlock hadn't faced this kind of problem before. Of course, in London when he had lost Irene. But this was different. Joan was different. She was his friend and she was alive. She was there. She was palpable.

Still he felt like he had lost her. It was totally understandable. This situation felt even worse than in London. Only now Sherlock had friends supporting him or friends at all.

When Sherlock was pondering the accident in January he couldn't help but blame himself for what happened. Every time when he reran that crucial day of the accident he always thought how stupid he was when he sent Watson to a shop.

_"I should have known that it's dangerous to walk in a blizzard. I should have remembered the high heel shoes she was wearing..."_ Sherlock thought. A small tear escaped from the corner of his eye.

_"Why can't I solve this?"_ he asked himself and tore the paper in two pieces. _"Why can't I find the solution?"_

Sherlock's thoughts were interrupted by Gregson who walked suddenly in the room.

"Oh, Holmes. How are you?" he asked cheerfully when he had spotted Sherlock from the corner.

"I've been better", Sherlock mumbled and wiped quickly the tear away. He stared at the crumpled paper in his hand. It was in four pieces now.

Gregson sat on his seat and sighed. He noticed that Sherlock was feeling uncomfortable but decided still ask what had happened.

"Something's bothering you. What is it?"

Sherlock stared at him for a moment before answering.

"You know damn well, what it is", he said and stared at him agitated. She was sad and angry. "I... I'm sorry. I..." he mumbled with regret. There wasn't any reason to overthrow his misery on Gregson.

"It's Watson. She..." Sherlock said and got up slowly from the floor. "She came home yesterday."

"Well, how is she?"

"I don't know actually... I mean I haven't seen or spoken to her today", Sherlock said and flinched to that thought not knowing about Joan's welfare.

Gregson stared at him a bit confused waiting for an explanation.

Sherlock was staring him back waiting for some sort of question.

"Care to explain?" Gregson asked finally. There had to be one hell of a weird reason why he hadn't seen her today. Sherlock and Watson were so close to each other and the time was already that much.

"There's nothing to explain", Sherlock said bluntly. "She made up her mind to move out and I totally..." he sighed. "And I totally honor her decision." The paper in his hand was now in eight pieces.

Gregson got up and came closer to him. He could tell Sherlock was on the edge of starting to cry.

"You miss her", Gregson said. It sounded more a question than a statement.

"No, I don't miss her. I... I miss the partnership we had", Sherlock said and sat down on a chair. "She decided going back to practice medicine."

Gregson sighed and sat next to him on another chair.

"Maybe you should..." he began but stopped when Sherlock's phone beeped.

Sherlock took it out from his pocket and read the message.

"It's from Watson. She wants to meet me at the nearby cafe in an hour", Sherlock said. He stared at the screen blankly.

"Well, are you going?" Gregson asked.

"I... I'm not sure", Sherlock said and sighed desperately. "I'm not sure I can handle with this. I haven't had this kind of feeling ever before... I just don't know."

After a moment Gregson broke the silence.

"I know you'll handle this thing", he said.

"How? I mean, she doesn't remember me, she doesn't know who I am, she doesn't trust me..."

Sherlock buried his head to his hands.

"But I know who you are", Gregson said. "You are the great Sherlock Holmes who solves every problem. She is an important person to you and I know you won't let her go. I know... Think this as a kind of like a new opportunity."

"What?" Sherlock asked a bit agitated and confused.

"I mean..."

"Don't, please", Sherlock said silently. "I don't want another conversation about this being a good thing because... it definitely isn't." Sherlock stood up slowly and headed to the door.

"Holmes, listen to me", Gregson said and stopped him. "I mean... she doesn't remember who you are or... what you have done before. All those bad things are way back. She doesn't remember Moran or Moriarty." Gregson took a little break. "You can start everything all over."

Sherlock stared at him for a moment. Gregson did have a point.

"I'm just saying that... You have a possibility to change everything. I know she has already changed you. She is a good person and she means well."

Sherlock stared at the floor for a moment and then he spoke.

"You are right", he said and smiled. "I can really change many things between us."

* * *

Joan was sitting at a nice, cozy cafe waiting for Sherlock. She was looking at herself from her pocket mirror.

_"Maybe I could put my hair in a ponytail"_, she thought and took a hair tie out of her purse.

Then she looked at herself from a mirror again and improved the ponytail. She didn't know why exactly she had put her hair like that. It just felt right.

Right after she had finished with her hair Sherlock stepped inside. Sherlock noticed immediately her ponytail and slim, grey and curve-hugging shirt. She had a small dark blue skirt, black stockings and black calf high heel boots. She had the most definitely dressed up like for a coffee date.

"Hi! Sorry, I'm late", Sherlock said and sat down.

"It's alright. I didn't wait you for long", Joan said and smiled.

Sherlock could say she was lying. Of course she was lying. Sherlock was late fifteen minutes and he was sure Joan had been at the cafe at least ten minutes earlier. Sherlock could estimate that Joan had been at the cafe almost a half an hour waiting for him.

"Now, tell me. What do you want to know?" Sherlock asked in a bit of excitement.

* * *

After three hours Sherlock's and Joan's conversation had been flowing smoothly and they had drunk a lot of tea and coffee. Now they had big mugs of coffee in their hands... or were. The coffee in the bottom of them was cold.

Sherlock and Joan had spoken many of things. Sherlock had explained how Joan had become his partner and how he can be so talented picking locks and stuff. He had told their first days together, their cases and their life in the brownstone.

Thought Joan and Sherlock had spoken really much, almost every subject of their conversation was a little embellished by Sherlock. He didn't want scare Joan away. He hadn't told her about Moran or Moriarty. Or the things he knew about her past in medicine.

"This was really nice", Joan said and took the last sip of her coffee. "Uh!" She wrinkled her nose. The coffee was indeed got cold.

"Cold coffee?" Sherlock asked. It sounded more a statement than a question.

"Yeah, it doesn't taste good at all", Joan said and set the mug on the tray in front of her.

"Well, there is a saying that cold coffee makes you beautiful", Sherlock said and smiled.

"What?" Joan asked a bit confused.

"It means same than drink coffee cold and never look old. Get it?" Sherlock explained.

Joan laughed and smiled. Then she stared at him a strange look on her face.

"What?" Sherlock asked.

"It just... I can see you are not an ordinary man. You have strange abilities and manners but... I would like to know if I am special to you. I mean... Do you act with other people like you do with me?" Joan said.

"I... I don't... I..." Sherlock mumbled and stood up. "I think I should go. This was very enlightening."

Sherlock took his wallet out of his pocket and laid the money of both of their drinks on the table.

"Sherlock, please", Joan said and got up too. "You don't have to answer my question or pay my coffee. I can..."

"No, no, I... I think I owe you these", Sherlock said and smiled.

"But why? You don't owe me anything."

Sherlock smiled nostalgically.

"It was nice to speak with you. I hope we... meet someday again. Bye!" Sherlock said and turned away.

Joan didn't say anything. She just stared at him when he opened the door and disappeared from view.

* * *

When Sherlock got home he took his shoes off and threw them somewhere in the foyer. Then he switched the table lamp on and took Clyde out from its box. He put it on the table and sat down to stare at it.

"Hello Clyde", Sherlock said and leaned on his hand.

"How was your day?" he asked knowing that he wouldn't get an answer. "My day was horrible."

Sherlock inhaled deeply and stared at the crawling reptile in front of him. "I... I just couldn't... handle with it. I knew I wouldn't."

Tears started flowing down on his cheeks.

"Maybe it would have been better if she had continued her life as a sober companion. What do you think?" Sherlock asked. Again he knew he wouldn't get an answer. "Would her life be happier if she hadn't started the partnership with me?"

"That is the question you won't ever had an answer", a familiar male voice said behind Sherlock's back.

Sherlock turned quickly around and saw Alfredo standing in the middle of the living room. He wiped quickly his tears away and turned around again.

"What are you doing here?" Sherlock asked with tearful voice.

"I thought I could come to check on you. I hadn't heard about you in a couple of days", Alfredo explained.

"Well, for your information I haven't done drugs or I'm not going to", Sherlock said staring at the lock which he had pick to his hands from the other side of the table.

"I know", Alfredo said and sat down.

"If you know, what are you still doing here?" Sherlock asked irritated.

"I thought you would like to talk."

"About what?"

"About everything..."

Sherlock took a little break and then he spoke.

"Well, if you wanted to talk would you, at first, explain how did you get in?"

"Joan gave me the key almost nine months ago. She said if something ever happened to her and you, I would be the one who get in the house first", Alfredo explained.

"I assume you to understand that if I had noticed you before you spoke, I could have killed you. That's how my brains work when I find and intruder behind my back at my house."

Alfredo didn't say anything. He just stared at Sherlock who was twiddling the lock in his hands.

* * *

After about five minutes of silence Sherlock threw the lock on the floor.

"Sometimes crying is good you know", Alfredo said and looked at him. "It makes you feel better."

"No, it doesn't. Not me", Sherlock said and stood up. He took a mug from the table and threw it with full force to the wall. Then he sat down again.

"You miss her very much but you can't terminate your sadness and anger like this", Alfredo said after two minutes of silence. "You should talk to her."

"Would you please... please just leave me alone?" Sherlock said. Tears began rolling down his cheeks again. "I need the time of my own for a while. I need time to think."

"Okay", Alfredo said and got up. "But if you want to talk or... you have something to say, call me."

Then Alfredo walked to the foyer and out from the brownstone leaving Sherlock alone.

* * *

After hour or two Sherlock got up from the chair and put Clyde back to his box. Then he climbed to the roof. Sherlock sat down in front of his bees and took his phone out of his pocket. He unlocked it and went to the Messages section. Then he began to write a new message.

"Dear Ms. Watson" Sherlock wrote put erased it.

After an hour Sherlock had finished writing the message but now he was thinking could he send it to her. He stared at the screen and pushed the Send button. The message was now sent and nothing could take back.

Sherlock read the message one more time before he put the phone back to his pocket.

"Dear Watson! At first I need to tell you that I'm really sorry for what happened at the cafe earlier. I ran away for no reason. I have, after a long time of thinking, an answer to your last question: Are you special to me? I think you need to know that I have had only few meaningful relationships with another person. You were one of the most meaningful to me. I learn to respect you and that is really rare in my case. I treated you better than I have treated anyone else. You were very special to me. I just need to say that you trusted me really much. And I know we wouldn't reach that trust again no matter what we would do. I was very terrible to you first but you stayed with me because you hadn't other choice. You learn my behavior and that why you learn to trust me. If I showed you that side of me which you saw at first, you would run away. I'm sure of it. I want to remember our relationship as it was before the accident. If you have something to say about it, please make me know. Please, be aware of the important fact that everything not so good what has happened between us in these couple of days isn't you fault. I'm the one who had screwed things up. I did and I do value and like you as a friend and a person. You were a friend which I hadn't had before. Please make me know if you want to speak with me someday. Good luck to your life as a doctor. Thank you and bye! Yours S. Holmes"

_"Is there really everything what I want to say?"_ Sherlock thought.

Indeed there wasn't. There wasn't even one percent what he wanted to say to her. He missed her so much that he could do anything to get Joan remember again and to get her back.

He knew he wouldn't receive any answer but he just kept staring at the screen. He sat and waited. He didn't know exactly what he was waiting for. But now waiting felt like the best option.

* * *

Joan was walking along a street when she received Sherlock's message. She stopped, picked her phone out of her purse and unlocked her phone. When she had read the message she stared at the screen. Everything was so confusing now. Joan couldn't think anything what she would say back to Sherlock. Nothing came to her mind.

Quickly she decided to call her one of the oldest friends. She dialed Emily's number and pushed the green button.

Emily answered almost immediately.

"Hi Em!" Joan greeted silently.

"Oh thank God!" Em said. "Joan! How are you? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I mean. No..." Joan broke into tears.

"Oh, honey. Where are you?"

"I... I'm not really sure. I... I think I'm lost. I just kept walking and walking and now I… I don't know. I'm not sure I can live with this anymore."

"What? No, no. Don't go anywhere. I'll come and get you, okay?"

"I... I don't remember..." Joan mumbled.

"What?"

"I don't remember!"

"Joan darling calm down, okay?"

Emily got silent sobbing for an answer.

"Can you see a bench somewhere?" Emily asked and locked her front door.

"Yeah. There is one right... right next to me."

"Okay. Go and sit there. And then you tell me some landmarks so I can find you, okay?"

"Okay..."

Emily ran to his car and started the engine.

Joan sat on the bench and started to explain her surroundings.

* * *

In twenty minutes or so Emily parked her car in front of Joan. Em had recognized the place because it was very near a cafe where she has spent her time lately. She jumped out from the car and sat down next to Joan.

"Hi, you sounded freaked out in the phone. Are you alright?" Em asked.

Joan lifted her head and Emily noticed that tears were gone but Joan had red and puffy eyes and her mascara was on her cheeks.

"I was so worried about you. I missed you very much", Emily said.

"I... I was in hospital", Joan said.

"I know... I know. Sherlock told me everything", Emile said and hugged Joan tightly. "I spoke with him two days ago."

Joan looked at Emily straight to her eyes.

"So... You do know about my memory loss?"

"Yeah, I do."

Joan didn't say anything. She just hugged Emily again.

"Have you spoken with him?" Emily asked.

"Yes, I have. We spoke about everything. But when I asked about me to be special to him, he... He said I could never understand him", Joan said and started to cry again. "I don't have anything. I don't have home, I don't have job..."

"But you do have home and a job. With Sherlock do you remember?"

"No... I left the brownstone and I decided to go back to practice medicine."

"Oh, really? I wouldn't ever believe that you would go back after the accident in an operating room."

Joan stared at Emily a confused expression on her face.

"What are you talking about?" Joan managed to say.

"About... the mistake you made. Didn't anyone tell you?" Now it was Emily's turn to be confused.

"What mistake? What do you mean?" Joan asked with a bit of a panic.

"About the mistake why you left the medicine in first place. You lost patient and then you lost your medical license. You had chance to renew it but you say you won't ever go back to practice medicine. You were acting weird for long time after that. But when you started working with Sherlock you kinda forgot it", Emily explained.

Joan was shocked.

_"Why no-one told me about this?" _she thought.

Joan rose from the bench and stared into the distance.

"Take me home", Joan said a bit angrily. "Please... I need to speak with my mum."

* * *

When Joan entered to her parents' house her mother was straight in front of her hugging her daughter.

"Oh, Joan. I was already worried about you. I called you three times but you didn't pick up", Mrs. Watson said.

"Mum, please. Let go. I want to speak with you", Joan said.

"Okay, what is it?" Mary asked while she let go of her. She looked at her daughter a bit confused.

Joan led them to sit down on the sofa.

"Mum..." Joan started. "Why didn't you tell me about my mistake in an operating room?" Joan tried to stay calm but that felt almost impossible.

Mary had known. This would come up sooner or later. But she had hoped that it would have come up later. After the renewing her license.

"Well, there is many reasons why we decided not to tell you", she explained.

"We?" Joan asked a bit agitated.

"Well, your father and I were so happy to hear that there was a possibility to get you back to medicine."

A tear escaped from Joan's eye.

"I know that you loved your life as a consulting detective but... we understood that if you wouldn't continue practicing medicine you... You wouldn't have any profession left", Mary explained. "We knew that if you heard something about your mistake you wouldn't ever become a surgeon again. We decided that we would tell you someday but not just yet. We wanted the best for you."

"By lying to me? I trusted you mum", Joan said. She was angry and tears were rolling down her cheeks. "I really trusted you mum. I was already glad that now all will turn out well. I think you didn't like at all when I was a sober companion or a consulting detective", Joan said and stood up.

"I didn't like at first. I admit. But your partner Sherlock made me understand that you loved the work what you did with him", Mrs. Watson said and got up from the sofa.

"But you did wrong when you didn't tell me", Joan said. "I thought we had spoken about everything. You said that when I left the medicine... You said it was just my stupid decision to quit."

"But it was. We tried everything to get you renew you license but it didn't help."

Joan turned away and took a deep breath.

"Who did tell you about this?" Mary asked suddenly. "I'm sure it wasn't Sherlock."

Joan turned to stare at her mum.

"Don't blame him for this", Joan said and stepped towards her.

"No, I'm not. I'm just saying that do you know why he didn't tell you about this?"

"I think I need a little time of my own", Joan said and rushed towards her room.

"Joan, listen to me!" Mary yelled.

"No mum. I don't want to", Joan shouted and slammed the door close behind her.

Joan sat on her bed. He took her phone out from her purse and read the message from Sherlock once more.

_"I'm sure Sherlock did know about the mistake of mine",_ Joan thought_. "Why he didn't say anything?"_

Joan got up from the bed and walked to her wardrobe. She found a tight white cocktail dress from the back of the closet. She put it on and then she picked up white stiletto shoes from a box which was under her bed. She curled her hair and put some makeup on. Then she picked up a purse which was matching with her white dress.

* * *

After twenty minutes Joan looked at herself from the mirror. She was ready to go to meet the whole city and to make new relationships with new people. People whom Joan could really trust.

Joan walked the stairs back down and without a word she got out from the house. Mary ran quickly after her.

"Joan! Joan darling, where are you going?" Mary shouted and grabbed Joan from the arm.

"Mum, let go. I'm an adult. You don't control my life anymore", Joan said and pulled her hand free from her grip.

"Joan, just tell me where are you going."

Joan didn't answer anything. She turned around and entered the taxi which she had just hailed.

* * *

After a half an hour when Mary had tried to contact her daughter for several times without avail, she decided to call the only one person who could trace her daughter's whereabouts and would be interested to do that.

"Hi, is this Sherlock Holmes?" Mary asked feeling a bit uncomfortable.

"Yes, this is. It's good to hear about you Mrs. Watson. I can assure you that you daughter isn't here anymore."

"No, I... I know. I think that I might need your help", Mary said.

Sherlock could hear the worry in Mary's voice and it was definitely caused by Joan.

"Is Watson okay?" Sherlock asked a bit worried.

"I... I don't know. She... She stormed out about an hour ago. I tried to call her but every call goes to her voicemail. Could you help me to find her?"

"Do you have any idea where she was going?"

"No, I don't. But she was wearing a white cocktail dress so I presume that she is in some kind of club or a bar."

"Okay, I... I'll see what I can do. Bye!"

"Bye!"

Sherlock ran downstairs and picked his phone out of his pocket. He dialed Joan's number but it went straight to her voicemail.

Sherlock ended the call and then called his acquaintance who owed him a favor.

"Hi Tom! This is Sherlock Holmes. Do you remember me?" Sherlock said when Tom had picked up.

"Oh, Sherlock. Of course I remember you. How can I help you?" the old man asked politely.

"I... I need your help. One of my... colleagues left to a bar and she doesn't pick up. I don't know where she is and I need to find her. She can be in danger."

"Okay... Tell me something about her so I can check can I find her."

"She is Asian. She has quite long black hair. And she is wearing a white cocktail dress."

"Okay... I'll see what I can do. I'll text you if I found something."

Sherlock hung up the call and sat down to wait, again.

Tom Dome was one of Alistair's friends. Sherlock had helped him with solving and old case and then Sherlock and Tom become some sort of acquaintances. Tom used to be a porter for many bars. But when one very aggressive guy had attacked him and almost punctured his lung, he decided to quit. After quitting Tom got a job from the government. He got many screens to his home and his job was to watch live surveillance footages from many bars at the same time and report if something suspicious happened.

After ten minutes Sherlock received a message. He opened it immediately.

09.36 p.m. Dorme Tom

"I think I found who you're looking for"

On the side of the message came a photo of a woman with curled black hair and a white dress. It was definitely Watson.

09.37 p.m. Me

"Thx. I think now we're even"

Sherlock looked at the photo in more detail and recognized the bar for its unique lamps hanging from the ceiling.

09.38 p.m. Dorme Tom

"Did you recognize the bar?"

09.38 p.m. Me

"Of course I did!"

* * *

And... I need to say that I already have the whole storyline for this story in my head but if Someone has an idea how I would continue this story, please share it with me. Please review! Every comment, thought, review or complaint is welcome. :)


	8. Chapter 8

Hello everyone! First I have to say that this chapter isn't really good... at least in my opinion. I have had fever and this is all I can get written. But here is a new chapter after all.

Then I have to thank you all my 43 followers and 17 authors who had favorite my story. Thanks for your support and reviews.

My native isn't English. Enjoy and please review...

* * *

After about forty minutes Sherlock was standing in front of the bar. He was looking at Joan's small figure through the window. He was happy he had found her. But he wasn't really bucked about the situation being in a bar surrounded by triggers for relapsing back into drug use. Sherlock shrugged his shoulders slightly and bit his lip. Then he took his phone out from his pocket and began writing a text message.

10.25 p.m. Me

"Found her. Will look she's ok"

Sherlock reread the message one more time before he sent it to Mrs. Watson. He waited for an answer and after a few seconds he received a short message.

10.27 p.m. Mary Watson

"Thanks for your help. Please, make sure she is alright and healthy."

Sherlock stood in front of the bar for a few minutes before entering. His feelings were mixed up. Sherlock hadn't been in a bar for over six months. Actually he hadn't been anywhere with many people at the same time lately. He wasn't in the mood for going to hang around or spend time to a bar. He felt uncomfortable and a little worried. He was worried about Watson and her welfare.

Sherlock knew and remembered well that he had been in a bar many times after his "visit" in Hemdale but this felt different. Actually this was different. In the bar in front of him was sitting a person he deeply cared about.

Sherlock could smell the faint smell of different cigarettes coming from the bar and that didn't make his feeling about going in any better. He knew well he'd be surrounded by cigarette smoke and drinks full of alcohol. He had to risk once again his sobriety. But know he had to do this. He had to this for Watson. There wasn't any other choice. He had to get Joan out from there.

Sherlock inhaled deeply once more before he entered to the bar.

* * *

After stepping in the bar he made many observations and conclusions about people in there. Music wasn't really loud but he could recognize the song which was playing in the background immediately. He tried to keep his mind out from different intoxicants but he couldn't just shut down his sense of smell. He smelled many smells of different cigarettes and, of course, he recognized them.

When Sherlock looked around he saw people drinking beer, wine and cocktails, taking snaps and sipping their drinks. Sherlock noticed that there wasn't many people in the bar but Sherlock didn't like being in there. He didn't like it at all.

Sherlock walked straight to Joan's side and noticed that she was almost in the same position what she was in the picture.

Joan was sitting on a high bar stool leaning on her hand. She was indeed very pretty. Her dress was small, sexy and curve-hugging. And her hair was curled beautifully.

Sherlock approached Joan slowly and sat on a chair next to her. He saw her empty wine glass standing in front of her. And next of it was a half full bottle of red wine.

"Watson, are you alright?" Sherlock asked silently but knew quite well that she wasn't.

Watson boggled and turned slowly towards Sherlock.

He noticed immediately her red eyes. She had indeed drunk that half bottle of wine.

"Yeah?" Joan asked her voice slurring.

"Your mother is worried about you. I think I should take you home", Sherlock said and got up from the chair. Then he grabbed her gently from her wrist.

"No!" Joan shouted and pulled her hand out of his tight but yet gentle grip.

Everyone in the bar stared at the two.

Sherlock knew he couldn't get Joan out of the bar with force, without someone calling police or someone attacking him for hurting an innocent woman.

"Watson, please", Sherlock begged.

"No", Joan said now more silently.

"Okay, I'm just saying that I'm sure your body isn't yet ready for alcohol", Sherlock tried but she didn't answer anything.

Sherlock sighed and sat down again.

"Okay, let's just sit then..."

Joan and Sherlock sat in silence for few minutes. Then Joan grabbed the bottle of wine from the table and poured the whole glass full of the liquid. She took the glass from the table and pointed it towards Sherlock.

"Do you want some?" she asked blatantly.

The question hit Sherlock like a ton of bricks. He had prepared himself for confusing conversations and statements but this... This was something Sherlock hadn't prepared himself for.

"No thank you", Sherlock answered politely.

"Okay..." Joan said and shrugged her shoulders. Then she took a sip of her drink.

Sherlock got up from the chair and walked to the counter.

"Can I have a glass of cold water, please?" Sherlock asked.

The bartender gave him the glass and Sherlock took the sip of his drink.

Then he walked slowly back next to Joan pondering her unexpected question.

* * *

After an hour Sherlock was listening Joan who was telling a story about her time as a surgeon.

Sherlock kept looking at the glass of wine in her hand. It was swinging wildly.

"Okay..." Sherlock said when he grabbed the glass from her hand.

"Hey, give it back", Joan said and tried to grab the wine from his hand.

"Watson, I'm sure you don't want any purple stains to that white dress of yours", Sherlock said and pointed the dress with his finger.

"Okay..." Joan said and smiled. He took her glass of wine from his hand. Then she continued her story.

When Joan laughed Sherlock felt a strange feeling inside him. He had wished for her to laugh, to be happy again. But this was something else. Joan had drunk a lot of alcohol and that was affecting her. Her laugh was caused by the wine she had drunk. The laugh itself wasn't real. Sherlock could hear it.

Sherlock was feeling agitated and confused. He was a bit angry for Joan to her behavior with alcohol. He was confused about Joan being drunk. He hadn't ever seen Joan like that.

"I really don't like this", Sherlock said cutting off her story.

"About my story or what?"

"I don't like this..." Sherlock said and flailed the air with his hands. "I don't like this picture. You were never drunk when you lived with me. You were careful and you never used or brought any product containing alcohol even near me. I... I can't even describe my feelings when you offered me that wine."

"But I..." Joan mumbled.

"I think it's time us to go home", Sherlock said and stood up.

Joan didn't dare to say something against him anymore. She knew Sherlock was angry so she jumped from the stool. When she tried to stand up she felt dizziness. She tried to take one step but began to fall.

Sherlock grabbed her from her waist quickly and before she hit the floor.

"Are you alright?" Sherlock asked a bit worried.

"I'm... fine", Joan responded her voice slurring more than before.

Sherlock and Joan walked out of the bar Sherlock holding Joan by her waist her purse in his other hand. He hailed a taxi and helped her to get in. After Joan was in the car Sherlock jumped to the back seat with her.

"Where're we going?" the cab driver asked.

Sherlock was just answering when he saw Joan. She was indeed in a really bad shape. He decided he couldn't take her to her parents' house. He had promised to keep her okay and healthy and he wasn't sure would Joan's parents count her welfare okay and especially healthy.

"To Brooklyn, please", Sherlock said after seconds of thinking.

* * *

After few minutes Sherlock noticed that Joan was eagerly looking for something.

"If you are looking your purse, I can say I have it", Sherlock said and handed her small purse to her.

"Thanks", Joan said and closed her eyes.

* * *

In front of the brownstone Sherlock poked Joan to her arm.

"Watson... Watson!" Sherlock said.

Joan woke up and stirred her eyes.

"What?" she asked a bit agitated.

"We're in our destination. Let me help you out of this vehicle."

Sherlock paid to the taxi driver and got out from the cab. Then he walked to the other side of the car to help Joan. He opened the door for her.

"Remember your purse", Sherlock reminded Joan and helped her out of the taxi. He took her hand gently to his and pulled her up from the backseat.

* * *

After the cab had driven away Joan began to look around her.

"This... isn't my... home", Joan said pronouncing words slowly. "You promise to... take me home... I want home."

"Oh, look at yourself Watson. Do you really want your parents seeing you like that? In that condition?" Sherlock asked and sighed.

"I'm perfectly fine..." Joan hummed the answer. "I think."

"Oh, come on Watson", Sherlock said and walked across the street his hand around her waist.

"Okay, can you climb the stairs?" Sherlock asked and looked at her high heels.

"I'm not... sure I can... my shoes..." Joan mumbled for an answer.

"Well, let me help you up", Sherlock said and placed her right arm around his neck. Then he lifted her up and carried her on his arms to the front door of the brownstone. Sherlock laid her back on the ground and unlocked the front door. After when Joan had almost fallen twice they finally got in to the foyer.

Sherlock put the lights on and looked at Joan who was just about to fell asleep.

"Let me help you to the couch", Sherlock said and helped her to the living room.

Just when Sherlock was releasing Joan from his grip she put her hands around his neck.

"Watson..." Sherlock mumbled and tried to release himself from her grip.

"Oh Sherlock..." Joan said flirty and stared at him straight to his eyes. Just when she was about to kiss him Sherlock got his hand to "protect" his lips.

"Watson please... You don't really want..." Sherlock mumbled. "Watson, I don't want... Not like this."

Joan's expression changed suddenly from flirty to confused.

Sherlock crawled out of her grasp and began walking to the kitchen.

"Please, stay there. I'll go get some tea for you."

* * *

In the kitchen Sherlock sat on the chair. He buried his head in his hands and inhaled deeply.

_"Was this mistake to bring her here?"_ Sherlock asked from himself. _"This can't be happening."_

Sherlock was struggling with mixed feelings and emotions. He was angry for Joan for her odd behavior but then he felt something strange. Something what made him feel happier and more awake. He had really kept eye on his feelings after the accident and now this feeling he was sensing was something new. Something he hadn't felt before. He still remembered that question in the bar and that didn't feel still any better. Actually what more Sherlock thought about the matter that more it made him feel angry.

Sherlock got up to prepare the tea for Joan. He put water into the kettle and the kettle on the stove. Then he picked some herbs to the tea from the kitchen cabinets. Then he sat down again.

_"How stupid I was..."_ Sherlock mocked himself. _"Not like this... I don't want to kiss you like this."_ Sherlock huffed_. "Now she really thinks I want to kiss her, oh God..."_

* * *

When the tea was ready Sherlock put it in a clean cup. He climbed up the stairs to the living room the cup in his hand.

When he entered to the living room he noticed that Joan had fallen asleep and was now peacefully lying on the couch.

Sherlock sighed and put the cup on the table. He lifted Joan up on his arms and carried her to her room.

"Sherlock..." Joan mumbled when he had set her on her bed.

"Yes?" Sherlock asked. "I'm here."

"I'm feeling a bit ill", she mumbled.

Sherlock laughed.

"I'm sure you do. You drank quite much that wine."

Joan sighed loudly.

"I'll go to look if I find something you could wear. I'm sure you don't want to sleep in that tight dress of yours."

* * *

Sherlock remembered well that she had taken all her clothes with her when she had left earlier. Luckily Sherlock had a piece of Joan's clothing somewhere in his room.

He walked to his room and grabbed her shirt and shorts from his wardrobe.

When he walked back to her room he was greeted by a sight that forced him to cover his eyes with the clothes in his hands.

Joan was sitting on her bed wearing only her underwear. She hadn't noticed him yet.

Sherlock instinctively jumped from the doorway back to the hallway. He leant to the wall and sighed. Then he knocked the door.

"Are you decent?" Sherlock asked politely not looking in the room.

"Yeah, come in", Joan said and stood up.

When Sherlock stepped in the room he was greeted by the same sight as before. She was wearing white lace bra and panties.

"Wow", Sherlock thought and tried to act normally.

Joan walked warily towards him and grabbed the shirt and pants from his hands.

"Thanks", Joan said and smiled. "Good night."

"Good night", Sherlock said and smiled. Then he turned quickly around and walked to the hallway and all the way to the kitchen. In his destination he stopped. He smiled widely and then he began to laugh quietly to the idea of their promises and talking of their privacy and boundaries.

* * *

Please review! Every comment will help me write a better story! :)


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